


the one who made it out

by tiaylasglass



Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Irondad, Kidnapping, Non-Graphic Violence, Protective Tony Stark, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-31 04:14:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19418266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiaylasglass/pseuds/tiaylasglass
Summary: “It’s finished. We’ve completed all the research and experiments.”“So, what now?”“We dispose of him. He’s fucked in the head. Won’t be any use to anyone now.”~After seven months of torture, Peter is saved.





	the one who made it out

In Peter’s defence, despite a hundred and one people stating otherwise, he wasn’t _that_ smart. Chemical formulas and mechanics, sure, easy as pie (literally – he could recite the first fifty-five digits off the top off his head). Keeping his mouth shut during an interrogation, where his interrogators were at a major advantage? Not so easy.

His hands were tied together as he hung from a hook, just low enough that he could touch the ground with his toes. The first botched attempt of escape had led to him learning the men holding him captive had wrapped the chain holding him up with barbed wire – a smart tactic, Peter had observed. He definitely wouldn’t be attempting to pull himself up again. The dried blood and stinging in his hands made sure off that.

When one of the men had ripped open his shirt he had complained – “Aw, seriously man? This shirt cost me $16 and I really can’t afford a new one at the moment.” His shoes had been taken – “Maybe my aunt will finally let me buy a pair of light-ups. I’ve been asking her for weeks, now I finally have an excuse!” Each comment had earned him a swift punch to the stomach.

The two men stood in front of him, clearly with plans on intimidating him with their height and evil glares into submission. Well, that and the whole punching him every time he opened his mouth. “Why am I even here, hm? I literally can’t do anything for you. I’ve got no money, I don’t know anything, and honestly I’m probably more annoying than I’m worth.” He took a second to catch his breath. “I’m just a dumb kid from Queens, man. _Please stop hitting me oh my God_.”

It probably (read: definitely) took him a little too long to just stop talking, but it was either that or bursting into tears because honestly, he was quite worried and getting nervous about why these men had kidnapped him on the street.

Nobody would even notice his disappearance until the next day, he knew, since his aunt was working a night shift and wasn’t going to see him until he woke for school the following morning. But when she notices him not in his bed, she will realise something’s not right. She’ll call someone – the police, maybe, or Tony.

He’s just got to last until the morning.

~

_“Tell me!”_

_“I don’t know anything!”_

_“Again.”_

_“Ahh!” Peter shouted in pain._

_“Tell me!”_

_“I don’t know anything!”_

_“Stop lying to me!”_

_“I’m not! I’m not, I swear, I’m not!”_

_“Again.”  
_

  
~

  
His feet were cold. He couldn’t really feel them anymore but was sure they hadn’t been chopped off or anything. Maybe that’s why they took away his shoes. Maybe they weren’t hydra agents as he had assumed – they were actually foot fetishists. Or maybe they stole people’s feet and sold them on the black market. Was there a black market for feet? Peter wasn’t sure, but he suspected there might be. He didn’t feel the punch he received for mentioning it. He was already passing out before the words passed his lips.

~

There was a mouse in the room with him. The mouse was more likely a rat, but the idea of sharing a room with a rat creeped Peter out far more than being roommates with a mouse. He named her Sandra, because his freshman year maths teacher had been named Sandra and her nose had a mouse-like appearance. He feels a little bad, though, comparing his old teacher to a mouse. She hadn’t been very nice to him, he remembered. He’d been given his first ever detention from her. So maybe she deserved it a little bit.

~

_“What’s next on the list?”_

_“Uh, yesterday was sticky fingers, right?”_

_“Mm.”_

_“Webbing, then.”_

_“Sounds good. Send in Thomas to bring him into lab three. I’ll get Hyun-joo and her team ready.”_

~

_“Sandra? Are you cold? Can someone please give her a blanket? She’s cold. Please. She’s really cold. I think she’s hurt, too. Please?”_

~

There was a leaky pipe in the corner of the room he was in. It hadn’t always been leaky, he was sure. He only noticed it three bangs ago. The men always banged the door open. It was too loud, but the leaky pipe was louder. He wanted it to stop.

~

_“There’s no point anymore. He won’t talk.”_

_“He does talk.”_

_“Only to the rat.”_

_“What rat?”_

_“The one we got rid of a week ago. He still talks to it, though. He won’t respond to us.”_

_“What’s next on the list?”_

_“Breath control.”_

_“I’ll fill the tub and prepare the team.”_

~

_“Did you guys take Sandra’s shoes too? I can’t hear her anymore. I think she’s sick. Can someone get her a doctor? She needs help. Please help her.”_

~

There were women there too, sometimes. They spoke quietly to the men, scolding them for the way they laughed as they sprayed Peter down. Peter didn’t like the women. He thought they were worse than the men, because it was their softer voices he heard as blades cut into his skin and his breath was stolen away.

~

Sometimes, Peter wondered if Sandra was like him. A Spider-Mouse. He could feel small legs scurry along his arms, his legs, his face. He asked her, if she too had been bitten by a radioactive spider on a school trip. Then he laughed. Of course she didn’t. Mice didn’t go on school trips. That was silly of him.

~

_“What’s next on the list?”_

_“… Nothing.”_

_“Nothing?”_

_“It’s finished. We’ve completed all the research and experiments.”_

_“So, what now?”_

_“We dispose of him. He’s fucked in the head. Won’t be any use to anyone now.”_

~

There was another bang. The door opened. But this time, it was more. There was a crunch, and a smash, and a lot of shouting. People called out his name. Someone started laughing. Something warm touched his face. A pair of brown eyes met his. He knew these eyes.

~

These eyes.

~

These eyes.

~

He knew these eyes. And they were safe.

~

_“What about Sandra? Don’t forget Sandra. She’s cold.”_

_“Okay, Peter.”_

~

“Peter? Can you look at me?” Peter blinked. His eyes moved slowly from his hands, his head turning slightly to his right before straightening and finding some more eyes. He laughed a little. Brown eyes. He knew these eyes.

~

“I like brown eyes,” Peter said one day. The man with brown eyes dropped the book in his hands. Peter didn’t say anything else for another few weeks, but that was the first thing he had said since he had been found.

~

“Peter? Do you know who I am?” Peter smiled.

“Of course I do. You have brown eyes.”

~

_“What does that mean, Bruce?”  
_

__  
“Tony, I don’t know. I never studied psychology.”  


__  
“Give me your best idea.”  


__  
“You have brown eyes. Maybe that’s what he associates with you. Perhaps he does recognise you, but that’s the only way he can express it.”  


__  
“He remembers my eye colour?”  


__  
“He remembers the safety and protection he felt when he looked in your eyes. Your eyes are what makes him feel safe. That’s why he’s most calm when you’re in the room. Maybe.”  


__  
“Huh.”  


_  
_ ~

  
“Peter, do you know my name?”

  
“Yeah.”

  
“Can you tell me?”

  
“No. It’s a secret.”

  
“Okay, Peter. Maybe another time?”

  
“Yeah.”  


~

  
“You came back?”  


“I never left, Peter.”

  
“Were you here last night? I think I saw you here last night.”

  
“I was, Peter. I didn’t leave.”

  
“Oh. Thank you.”

  
~

  
“Are you hungry, Peter?”

  
“Huh?”

  
“Would you like some food, Peter?”

  
“I don’t know.”

  
“Tell me when you do. It’s right here for when you’re ready.”

  
~

  
“Where’s Sandra?”

  
“Who?”

  
~

  
_“Hold him down!”  
_

__  
“I’m trying!”  


__  
“Try harder!”  


__  
“Fuck – it’s called ‘super-strength’ for a reason, Bruce!”  


__  
“Peter? Can you hear me? Damn it.”  


_  
_ ~

  
_“He’ll come back, Tony. Just give him some time.”  
_

__  
“He’s had time, Pep. A lot of it.”  


_  
“Tony – ”_

_“I just want him back, Pepper. Is that too much to ask?”  
_

__  
~  


“Open your mouth, Peter.”

  
“Okay, Mr Stark.”

  
“What – What did you say?”

  
“Okay, Mr Stark.”

  
“Oh my God.”

  
Peter smiled around a mouth full of custard. The brown-eyed man, Mr Stark, gently wiped at his chin with a wipe.

  
“I missed you, Peter.”

  
~

  
“Mr Stark?”  
  


“I’m right here, Peter.”

  
“I want light-up shoes.”

  
“Light-up shoes?”

  
“Mm. They took my shoes. Now I can get light-ups.”

  
“Okay, kid.” It sounded like he was laughing. “Whatever you want.”

~  


“Mr Stark?”

  
“You alright, Peter?”

  
“I don’t feel very well. My hand is shaking.” He felt the man cover the shaking hand with his own.  
  
  
“Take a deep breath, Peter. Just like me, see?” 

  
He did.

  
~

  
Recovery was far from smooth. Some days, Peter felt like he was back in the bath tub, vulnerable and under attack. The pain felt infinite and the brown-eyed man’s warm hands lost their softness, pushing him down by his shoulders as he fought to get out. Why didn’t he get it? _He couldn’t breathe._

Those days were the worst. At first, they were far more common than the good days. He would tear at his bandages and scream and cry and plead for them to stop and the only way to calm him down was to have Steve and Tony hold him down as Bruce injected a strong sedative into his neck.

But there were good days. Days where Peter would call Tony by his name and smile as he read to him. Peter liked holding Tony’s hand, he was quick to learn, the boy desperate for the comfort his larger hand could provide.

He didn’t often speak of his time away. On his bad days, he thought he was still there, or that he was going to be taken back. On the good days he became fully immersed in the present – such as the plate of pureed foods in front of him being spoon-fed by Mr Stark.

~  


“Mr Stark?”

  
“Yeah, kid?”

  
“How long was I away for?”

  
“Seven months, Peter.”

  
“Oh.”

  
“We were looking for you the entire time, Peter.”

  
“Thank you for finding me, Mr Stark.”

  
“I always will, kid. I promise.”

  
~

  
“Ow – _fuck, Bruce, what the fuck?_ ”

  
“You just said a bad work, Mr Stark,” Peter giggled.

  
“Not a word,” he pointed to him sternly. Peter just kept laughing.

  
“Maybe next time you won’t ignore the lab safety requirements before creating an experimental bomb out of one of your old suits,” Bruce reprimanded.

  
“Yeah, Mr Stark.”

  
“I swear to God, kid, I will come over there.” Bruce whacked Tony in the arm with the small scissors in his hand. “What, is it ‘bully Tony Stark day’ or something? I didn’t get the memo.”

  
Peter snorted into his hand. “Don’t be silly, Mr Stark. Everyday is ‘bully Mr Stark day’.”

  
“Smartass.” Tony stuck his tongue out at the teen.

  
“Bad word.”

  
~

  
“Peter! Wake up, kid. It’s just a dream, you’re okay,” Tony held Peter in his arms, the boy sobbing heavily as he mumbled illogically. “Shh, I’ve got you.”

  
“No, no, no,” Peter cried, one arm clutching at Tony’s arm around his chest and the other holding tightly onto Tony’s other hand. Tony was sat behind him, rocking the two back and forth and he whispered soft reassurances into his ear.

  
“You’re home now, Peter. I’ve got you.”

  
~

  
“Mr Stark?”

  
“Hm?”   
  
  
“Why isn’t May here?” Peter watched as Tony froze in his movements, placing his tools down before spinning around to face him. Peter could tell by the look on Tony’s face that the words about to leave his mouth weren’t going to be good ones.

  
“She took your disappearance really badly, Peter. She got really sick and it was too much for her, in the end.”

  
“She… got sick?” Peter frowned.

  
“In her head, yeah.”

  
“You mean, like depression?”

  
“Exactly like that, Peter.” Tony said, watching Peter carefully. Peter didn’t understand what he was trying to say.

  
“Is she away? Getting better so she can see me?”

  
“Peter…”

  
“I don’t understand, Mr Stark.”

  
“May can’t get better, kid.”

  
“Of course she can,” Peter smiled.

  
“No – ”  


“She can see a doctor and get medicine. Just like me, right? Medicine will make her better. Then I can see her again.”

  
“Peter,” Tony tried again, but Peter didn’t stop.

  
“I remember thinking about her, Mr Stark. I missed her a lot, I still do. Can I visit her, at least?”

  
“Peter.”

  
“Please? I’ll be extra good. I’ll take all my medicine without complaining,” he bargained.

  
“Peter…”

  
“Mr Stark?”

  
“Your aunt passed away two months ago, Peter.”

  
“Oh.”

  
~

  
_“It’s like everything’s gone back to how it was when we first found him.”  
_

__  
“I shouldn’t have told him.”  


__  
“He had to find out eventually. We can work through it, Tony. We already did once.”  


__  
“What if it’s too much for him? He just found out the most important person in his world is gone. How do we get him back from that?”  


__  
“Patience, Tony. We need to give him time and let him find his way back to us when he’s ready.”  


_  
_ ~

  
“Good morning, Peter. You know who I am?” Peter responded with a soft hum. “Are you hungry?” Another hum. A plastic spoon pressed to his lips. He opened his mouth and hummed happily. He liked sweet things. He also like the brown-eyed man giving it to him. He was happy.

  
~

  
“Come on, Peter. Just one more bite?” Peter pressed his lips tighter, teeth grinding in defiance. He could taste the metallic of his blood filling his mouth. He must have bit his tongue again. He showed the brown-eyed man, because even if he wasn’t happy today he still liked the man. He opened his mouth a little, eyes staring forward as the man sighed. “Okay, Peter.”

  
He put the spoon away.

  
~

  
“Let’s get you cleaned up, Peter.”

  
“Sorry.”

  
“It’s okay, kid. It was an accident.” He let the brown-eyed man undress him and help him into the shower.

  
“Okay.”

  
~

  
Peter giggled at the brown-eyed man. He had fallen asleep on the chair next to Peter’s bed, and Peter had found a black permanent marker close by. The brown-eyed man’s beard had been filled in properly, and a small child-like drawing of a cat was now drawn over his cheek.

  
~  


The next time Peter woke up, a small, just as bad, drawing of a cat decorated his left arm.

  
~

  
“Let’s play a game, Peter.” Peter took the pile of cards, turning them over curiously. “Nuh uh, no peeking!”

  
Peter let him show him the game, laughing each time his hand would beat his to the middle, both voices shouting “Snap!” at the same time.

  
“I won that time!” he said.

  
“Cheater, Mr Stark!” Peter laughed. Tony laughed with him, his eyes tearing up slightly.

  
“Okay, kid. You win this time.”

  
~

  
“I don’t want to sleep, Mr Stark.”

  
“It’s late, Peter. You’re still getting better. You need a lot of sleep.” Peter was silent for a minute.

  
“I’m scared, Mr Stark.”

  
“You don’t need to be scared, Peter. I’m right here with you. Nothing bad will happen.”

  
“Promise?”

  
“Cross my heart, buddy.”

  
~

  
“You hungry, Peter?”

  
“You hungry, Mr Stark?”

  
“Are you copying me?”

  
“Are you copying me?” Peter was clearly trying to hide his grin but was failing spectacularly.

  
“Peter!”

  
“Mr Stark!”

  
“You need to eat.”

  
“You need to eat.”

  
“Kid,” Tony deadpanned.

  
“Old man,” Peter shrieked with laughter as Tony whacked him over the head with a pillow.

  
“Smartass.”

  
~

  
“Peter?”

  
“Yeah, Mr Stark?”

  
“How are you feeling today?”

  
“Same as every day,” Peter shrugged with a yawn.  


“How do you feel every day?”

  
“Like I want to be asleep, Mr Stark.” They were both silent. “But when you’re here, I’m okay not being asleep.” Tony smiled fondly at the boy’s words.

  
“I like not being asleep when I’m with you too, Peter.”

  
~

  
“Mr Stark? Can I ask you something?”

  
“Of course,” he nodded, his eyes not moving away from the metal plates he held in his hands. They were in the lab, working together quietly. When Peter didn’t say anything, he put his things down and walked over to where peter was working. “You’re doing great, Pete. I like how you’ve added the lights. It’ll scare the crap out of Steve next time he gets up at four in the morning to go for those damn runs, waking us all up with his noise.”

  
“I’m gonna make him beep,” Peter said. “Like a smoke alarm, but not as loud.”

  
“Good idea,” Tony snickered. Peter let out a soft laugh. “What’s on your mind, buddy?”

  
“I just…” He took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. Tony waited patiently. “It’s been over ten months since I last saw my friends. Or anyone, really.”

  
“You want to go outside?”

  
“Yeah.”

  
“Okay.”

  
~

  
Peter felt his tears drip down his cheek, even as a smile lit up his face. Tony was watching him with a sad smile. The sun felt warm on his skin. The wind cool as it brushed through his hair. The air clean and fresh and his tears kept coming as he relived the simple things he had once taken for granted.

  
“I missed this so much, Mr Stark.”

  
“You won’t have to miss it ever again,” Tony promised, wrapping an arm over Peter’s shoulder. “Never again.”  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> hey, thanks for reading! unedited but i need validation so kudos and comments are really appreciated!! but honestly please let me know if i've made any major mistakes. i might make this a series and continue to see how peter's life moves on from this. this is my way of coping with the wait for far from home bc im so excited asdfj


End file.
